La Pucelle, the Crimson Holy Saint
by RESTIA
Summary: The flame that burns twice as bright, burns half as long. A star burns brightest right before it dies. All things must end. All heroes encounter tragedy. All heroes... encounter monsters. For the sake of a personal vendetta, Jaune Arc made the ultimate decision. "You took the better half of me, Cinder... What you left is a dangerous enemy."


**Title** : La Pucelle, the Crimson Holy Saint  
 **Author** : RESTIA  
 **Rating** : PG-13  
 **Summary:** The flame that burns twice as bright, burns half as long. A star burns brightest right before it dies. All things must end. All heroes encounter tragedy. All heroes... encounter monsters.  
 **Disclaimer:** Only the story concept is mine. The rest is owned by their respective owners.  
 **A/N:** Jaune + Pyrrha + Angst?! This looks to be a very familiar combination! Say it isn't so! Yeah, well that's unfortunate.

* * *

 _Fire is the bringer of life, the apostle of creation. Fire can be a gentle flame that warms and comforts. But take heed - fire can also be the tidings of death, the harbinger of destruction. Fire can also be a vicious flame that burns and consumes._

 **La Pucelle, the Crimson Holy Saint**

Since time immemorial, kids have been enthralled by tales of heroes and knights, stories of monsters and demons. Every child have dreamed at least once of being the messiah that saved the world, fantasizing about bringing salvation to the land. Fascinated by powers, supernatural or otherwise, in awe of the fame and rewards that those given the title "heroes" reaped, every child wanted at least once to be a hero. The world was simple to children. There were only two extremes to them, that of black and white, evil and justice, heroes and monsters.

In a world where beasts of darkness lurked, it was easy to portray the Grimm, soulless beings that sought the end of mankind, as the universal "monsters". Drawn and attracted to negative emotions such as hatred and despair, the Grimm was often the antagonists of many a children's tales, from the Little Red Riding Hood and the Beowolf, to the Goldilocks and the Three Ursas.

As evil exists, so will justice. As darkness exists, so will light. And the Huntsmen and Huntresses of Remnant played the part of "light" to the Grimm's "darkness". Often embellished as paragons of virtue, symbols of justice, they are the counterparts of the Grimm, brave, determined heroes who fought to protect their land from the evil scourge of the Grimm.

Every child once dreamed of being a Hunstman or a Huntress. Jaune Arc was no different. Growing up in a family of ten, including himself, he was often told fairy tales of the evil Grimm, damsels in distress, and the hero or heroine, a Hunstman or Huntress, who through willpower, courage, strength and other attributes, put an end to the monster and saved the heroine... And they lived happily ever after. Having grown up with such tales, it was little wonder that Jaune Arc, a young, impressionable boy then, desired to become a hero.

Unfortunately, fate had other plans. Untrained, frail, weak, talentless, he was rejected from many academies designed to train future huntsmen and huntresses. However, Jaune never gave up and pressed forward, pursuing his dream of becoming a hero. It was only when he was seventeen and after bending his morals slightly, that Jaune seemed to catch his first break. He was accepted into Beacon Academy, one of the most famous facility for training teams of huntsmen and huntresses to slay the various monsters that plague the land of Remnant.

It seemed to him that life was finally looking up to him. He found friends, teammates, each with their own individual personalities, which brought color to his life. Ruby Rose, Weiss Schnee, Blake Belladonna, Yang Xiao Long, of team RWBY. And then, there was his teammates, Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren, and his partner, the ever Invincible Girl, Pyrrha Nikos.

It was there, that he finally found something to be proud of. It was there, that he found a talent. With loyal teammates, with a partner that patiently trained him in combat, he could finally hold his head up high in the Academy which he had so dishonestly entered. Life... was good.

He never thought that it would end. He never thought that the monotone, halcyon days spent in Beacon would end. All it took was one day... One bad day, and everything changed.

It was there, that he learned the Grimm was not the only monsters. Mankind, Faunus and Humans alike, held the potential to become the most deprave monsters themselves. Malicious, malignant, cruel demons.

Manipulating, weaving plans within plans, inciting despair and fear in the citizens of Vale, cooperating with the terrorist group White Fang, sweeping destruction along Remnant to steal the Fall Maiden's powers, the nefarious Cinder Fall incited a Grimm Invasion in the city of Vale and threw the land into chaos. She wreaked havoc and heralded an age of endless darkness, all for an unknown end-game.

It was then, that Jaune Arc first knew of despair. It was then, that Jaune Arc first grasped of pain. It was then, that Jaune first leaned of loss. It was then, that Jaune Arc realized for the first time that even heroes were not immortal.

Pyrrha Nikos was the one of the first "heroes" that lost their lives to the bloody inferno known as war. She wouldn't be the last.

His partner, his teammate, his lover. Gone in an instant, he never realized just how much Pyrrha was worth to him until she was cruelly ripped away.

 _You never know the value of what you have until you lose it._

* * *

 _Crackle, crackle_

He stared at a small campfire, deep within the Emerald Forest, watching its tongues lick the air. He gazed at the writhing embers, mesmerized. A haunting reminder of that which had taken away his partner, his teammate... A grim remembrance of that which had taken away almost everything he held dear.

When Qrow, Ruby's uncle, handed to him the shattered pieces of the headpiece and weapon of his best friend and teammate, the pain he felt was immeasurable. His heart felt as if it was torn, ripped, shattered and crushed all at once, its remnants left scattering in the wind.

He felt weak once more. Too weak, too slow, too stupid to even protect the girl he now knew he loved with every iota of his being. If only he was stronger... If only he was faster... If only he was smarter... Such thoughts tormented his mind, his soul every single second he was awake. He cries, he screams. The soul tearing pain, the void within his heart, the nothingness within his soul, it ached and attacked his sanity. Slipping through erected barriers of the mind, it was torturous, it was excruciating, it was agony.

He felt heavy, as if he was submerged within the depths of the deepest, darkest ocean. Even as rain fell and extinguished the campfire, he sat still, refusing to move. Immersed in the abyss of his own despair, he stared at the dark horizons blankly. His world, once so colorful, now seemed so utterly bleak, so utterly hopeless. He floated in his sorrow, a subterranean darkness without direction or a sense of passing time in what felt like an ethereal and transient dream. His body shook and trembled, in rage and despair, in anger and sorrow.

He screamed once more. He cried once more. He stood up abruptly, a scowl marring his face, his hands reaching out for the soil. He gripped it tightly into a ball, and threw it into the infinity beyond with all of his might. Again, and again, and again, he vented all of his emotions out until there was nothing left, and then he did it again, and again, and again. Eventually, all of his anger, rage, despair, everything faded until he was left numb, until he was naught but an empty vessel. He collapsed, so utterly tired, so utterly exhausted, of just everything in the world.

 _Clang_

A metallic clang resounded through the clearing. Jaune instinctively sought the source of the sound, and what he saw brought a grim smile to his face. For what he saw was the last memento he had of his dear partner... The shattered fragments of Pyrrha's weapons and headpiece. His hands reached out for the metal pieces, and he gripped it tightly as if his life depended on it. Even when its edges pierced through his skin and drew blood, he did not let go. For it was one of the few things he had to remember her by.

The pain reminded him that was all too mortal... All too vulnerable to death. He laughed, and it was a harsh, grating sound, so unlike the goofy, outgoing Jaune Arc of the past. It was then he made up his mind. Turning, he reached out for his sword and sheath, Crocea Mors, and gripped them tightly. Staring at his sword's metallic edges, his mind wandered back to a warning imparted to him by his father, before he set out on this foolish venture to become a hero.

" _Jaune, your semblance is a unique one._ _ _Your semblance is not like any other. It isn't something simple like granting you superhuman speed or strength when used, and it is not one that can be used indefinitely. You_ are to never use it, unless you are in dire straights, and you are left with no other recourse. Because if you use it, you will..._"

Chuckling bitterly, his lips curled up into a humorless smirk. " _I am sorry, dad, looks like I have to break that promise now._ "

He then threw his blade up, catching it by the end of the blade. The blade then glowed with white aura, as he uttered a line to unlock his semblance.

"O Lord, I entrust this body to you-"

Flames then surged from his blade, manifesting from his semblance, greedily devouring everything its embers licked. The flames flickered and writhed, eager to consume anything in its path... Including his own soul and body.

" _Looks like I'll be seeing you sooner than I thought, Pyrrha. And I'm sorry, younger me. Looks like Jaune Arc won't live long enough to become a hero, after all._ "

* * *

 _Your semblance is the very crystallization of the existence of one of our ancestors, Joan of Arc. It acts as an interpretation to her grim fate, of her being burned at the stake due to accusations of being a witch. Your semblance manifests flames that devour everything... Flames that cannot be extinguished with water or any other normal methods. The flames will only disappear when the battle it is manifested for ends... But when the battle ends, the user will be extinguished as well. Such is the fate of La Pucelle, the Crimson Holy Saint._

* * *

 **A/N: Well, I just thought what if Jaune was so broken by Pyrrha's death, and then this whole spiel came out. I'm sorry if this was sloppy, it's 7am now and I just wanted to get this out of the way. Will probably edit it once I wake up to improve it and what-not. For now, adios, and I'll be enjoying my sleep till the late afternoon.  
**


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